


Too Fucking Drunk

by Gebo



Series: A Different Fucking Morality [2]
Category: Bobby Squared - Fandom, Dead Fish (2005), Trainspotting (1996)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gebo/pseuds/Gebo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny gets uncharacteristically drunk and finds himself in an unexpected scenario….</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Fucking Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Flashback. Takes place prior to the events of Part 1.

Fuck, he was drunk. Danny could barely fucking see straight, he was so fucking drunk. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so drunk. Typically, he reserved drunkenness for when he was paid up and feeling particularly relaxed, safely locked away in his flat. Not tonight. Tonight, Danny had sunk onto a barstool at his own club and had ordered an expensive Irish whisky blend, neat. And then another. And another. By midnight, he had moved onto shots of Smirnoff, and by half one he was pleasantly empty-headed and leaning heavily against the bar.

Behind him in the flashing lights and booming music of the club, the girls danced and their audience watched with rapt attention and straining trousers. Danny had seen it all before. He didn’t much care what his clientele did in the privacy of their booths, as long as they didn’t touch. No touching, that was rule number the fucking first. No wanking, that was the second rule, but really it was a fucking guideline. The sign next to the stage might’ve instead said, “Don’t get caught wanking.” He was fully aware that more than a few men unzipped their flies and grabbed their cocks as they watched the show. It wasn’t like he was going to send his staff diving under the table to find every perpetrator. He didn’t fucking care enough for that. At the moment, he didn’t fucking care enough for anything.

The bartender knew better than to try to cut Danny off. He liked his job too much to risk losing it, and Danny had made it perfectly fucking clear that he had no fucking intention of stopping any time soon. They had developed a bizarre sort of sign language, with the bartender looking down the bar at Danny every few minutes, and Danny would either pretend he hadn’t noticed or would make eye contact and raise his hand. One finger for a single shot of Smirnoff, two fingers for a double, and three for a tumbler of scotch. The bartender would pour the drink and leave it in front of Danny without a word.

By quarter of two in the morning, Danny barely had the energy to lift his hand anymore. He sat on his stool, bent forward until his forehead and nose were pressed against the cool granite of the bar. He felt someone brush against him as they pushed their way forwards to the bar.

“Oy! Ah’ll hiv a single-maut whisky, oan the rocks!” When the bartender did not immediately have the drink in front of him, the man slammed a fist down on the bar, uncomfortably close to Danny’s ear. “Oy, ya cunt! Come awa!” Danny lifted his head from its resting place to look sideways at the Scotsman standing beside him. He wasn’t a tall man, but had a look of wiry strength, his biceps bulging under his navy blue jumper and his enormous neck protruding from the top, capped of by a hard jawline and harder face. His hair was dark and slicked back and under his pointed nose had an impressive-looking mustache. “Ah’ll fucking say t’ower, as ye obvious daedna fucking hear us. A fucking single-ma–”

“He fuckin’ heard you, alright?,” Danny cut across the bloke’s tirade. He sat up in his stool, turning to look at the man through squinted eyes. “He fuckin’ heard you and he knows how to fuckin’ do his fuckin; job. If you can’t wait a fuckin’ second to get you sodding drink, leave off. There’s a far less fuckin’ busy pub down the street that might suit you much fuckin’ better.” The man stumbled backwards a step as he turned to face Danny. So, Danny wasn’t the only one who was fucking plastered, then.

“Are ya fucking interruptin us, son?” The man’s face became deeply red as he thrust a threatening finger in Danny’s face. “Naebody fucking interrupts me! Nae cunt interrupts Frank Begbie! Dae y'ken whae ye're fucking talkin tae?!” Danny raised an eyebrow at the display of masculinity. It wasn’t often he met someone who was willing to stand up to him, and this fuck had the fucking nerve to be posturing in front of him. Danny hopped off the stool, glad that he didn’t stumble as he landed nimbly on his feet. He reached for his crotch, adjusting himself within his trousers and did not miss the other man’s eyes following the movement.

“Listen here, you ugly fuckin’ brute. I’m the fuckin’ owner of this fuckin’ dive. I’ll fuckin’ do as I like. I’ll fuckin’ interrupt who I fuckin' like. If you have a fuckin’ problem with that, you can fuckin’ take it up with my fuckin’ complaints department.” Danny gestured to the bouncer standing in the far corner of the bar who had a keen eye on all of the goings on within the club. He watched the man turn his head to see the bouncer as well and when he turned back to Danny, he had forced his face into a far calmer expression. Danny could see the man make a conscious effort at a slow, deep breath.

“Ya wantae fucking git a better bartender,” the man called Frank Begbie growled. He leaned sideways against the bar, a movement Danny was certain was meant to look nonchalant, but instead had the effect of making the man look entirely off balance.

“And you want to be watching your fuckin’ mouth. I won’t fuckin’ tolerate worthless fuckin’ criticism from worthless fuckin’ cocksuckers, like yourself.” Danny could feel the rage billowing off of Begbie as he turned to glare at him.

“Wit the fuck daed ye juist caw us?” Begbie took a step forward and stumbled, landing on his knees in front of Danny. His momentum carried him forward until he had landed in a heap at Danny’s feet. Danny laughed, taking a few hasty steps back when Begbie’s fists swung towards his ankles.

“What, are you fuckin’ deaf as well as fuckin' stupid? I fuckin’ called you a fuckin’ useless, fuckin’ worthless, cum-drooling, prick-up-the-arse, pathetic fuckin’ _cocksucker_.” The resulting array of expressions that crossed Begbie’s face was rather impressive. Danny could not have stopped the grin that split his face if he had fucking wanted to. This was a good fucking time, this was. Danny was unused to having someone who had the fucking bollocks to stand up to him. Begbie not only stood up, but seemed willing to give as well as he fucking got. It was oddly refreshing.

As Begbie reached up for the edge of the counter and heaved himself to his feet, Danny bounced unsteadily on his toes, his usual energy returned to him. His vision was still fuzzy and there was a ringing in his ears as the deep bass of the club music thrummed in his head, but he was feeling giddy with the excitement of this interaction. When Begbie finally managed to clamber to his feet, Danny had hardly a moment to react before he felt a fist collide with his jaw.

The club erupted into a frenzy. From all sides Danny’s bouncers moved in, shoving through the sweaty masses of men and strippers. Danny staggered backwards into the wall, a hand going to his face where he could already feel a bruise rising. The first bouncer flung his arm around Begbie’s neck and heaved him backwards, ignoring the sputtering sounds the man made has he tried to fight his way to Danny. Somewhere to Danny’s left, a woman screamed, which really seemed overly dramatic to Danny. He suddenly had tiny hands grabbing at his face and hands and a sickly sweet voice cooing in his ear. One of his girls had jumped the stage and was attempting to soothe a hurt that Danny barely felt. He waved her off and gestured to the two burly men who were holding Frank Begbie by the arms.

“Take him to my fuckin’ office, will you? We’ll fuckin’ deal with this there.” He turned and led the way through the enormous double doors, the scantily-clad bint clinging onto his arm as if she would keep him from doing something drastic.

“Are you sure that’s the best idea, Danny? The man seems like a psycho,” the girl, Vanilla, Danny thought vaguely, warned. “He tried to grab Daisy earlier. Nearly succeeded too! Why don’t you just throw him out?”

“Excuse me! I fuckin’ run this establishment! I fuckin’ give the fuckin’ orders around here. Who the fuck do you think you fuckin’ are? Telling Danny fuckin’ Devine how to run his fuckin' club?” Danny turned from the woman abruptly and forced himself to take a deep breath. It wasn’t her fault, the stupid cunt, but he wasn’t in any mood to be told what to do. Going around his desk, he was just sliding down into his parrot chair when the bouncers entered the office, dragging Begbie in between them. They dropped him roughly at Danny’s signal, as a third shut and latched the doors behind them.

“Now. If you wanna fuckin’ calm the fuck down and settle this like civilized fuckin’ human beings, I’m perfectly fuckin’ happy to listen.” Begbie got to his feet and brushed down his blue argyle jumper. In the brighter lights of his office, Danny could see that the man was decently dressed, and well-kept, if a little worse for wear in his drunken state.

“Just come in fir a wee pint an a guid fucking show. Didnae want tae git fucked aboot by a coupla cunts in suits.” Begbie rolled his neck and even from his seat across the desk, Danny could hear the crackling of his joints. Christ, what a fucking time bomb this fuck was.

“If you didn’t fuckin’ want to get roughed up, you might not have fuckin’ attacked the bloke what signs everyone’s fuckin’ paychecks, yeah?” Danny became aware of something cold and wet being pressed against his face, and he jumped back, sliding deeper into his chair. Vanilla, the stripper who had followed him in, was pressing some moist towelette onto his face. Probably some fucking antiseptic. Danny knocked her hand away with an annoyed grunt. “Get the fuck away, would you, you fuckin’ interfering fuckin’ bint? What am I fuckin’ payin’ you for? Am I fuckin’ payin’ you to be my fuckin’ mother?”

“No, Danny.”

“Then get the fuck off and go do your fuckin’ job, would you?! For fuck’s sake, do I have to fuckin’ write it out for you, love? Do I have to fuckin’ show you how to fuckin’ stand on a stage and take your fuckin’ clothes off. Get the fuck out there.”

“Yes, Danny….” The girl turned and beat a hasty retreat, closing the door behind her. Danny turned his attention back to the man in the argyle and khaki. Begbie stepped up to the other side of the desk and glared down at Danny. How did the man seem so fucking tall? He really couldn’t be all that much taller than Danny himself.

“Ah want a fucking apology,” Begbie said, his mustache bristling with his heavy breathing. “Nae cunt says they fucking things tae me!”

“I fuckin’ think the violence enacted upon my fuckin’ jaw rather fuckin’ evens the score,” Danny protested. He looked to his men, standing solemnly by the door. “Don’t you think it evens the fuckin’ score, mates?” They each nodded, but didn’t say a word. They all knew better than to meddle in Danny Devine’s affairs. “You can go, lads. Leave this fuck-wit fuckin’ pipe blower to me.” The men exchanged wary expressions, but left the room without a word. Danny waited until he heard the lock thrown before he stood from his chair. His steps were unsteady as he rounded the desk and stood face to face with Mr. Begbie. The other man had his fists balled and was breathing heavily. He looked like a fucking volcano about to blow it’s top.

“Caw us aen moar fucking name, ye fucking leprechaun. Ah fucking dare ya tae dae ‘t.”

“I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ like, thank you ever so fuckin’ much, Mr. Begbie. Bit of a fuckin' sensitivity you’ve got there. Are you sure you’re not just in desperate fuckin’ need of a nice fuckin’ cock shoved up yur fuckin’ shithole?” This time, when Begbie’s fist swung at him, Danny was ready for it. The blow hit him in the cheek and sent him sprawled on his arse on the floor. He was laughing before Begbie had even wound up for the next hit. That made the man falter in his movements. Danny could see the confusion plain as day on Begbie’s face. The man was just as unused to someone standing up to him as Danny was.

“That the fuckin’ best you can fuckin’ do, you pansy fuckin’ kilt lifter? My own fuckin’ mother, fuckin' bless her, can hit better than that. You’ve obviously spent far too much time wanking to pictures of Sean fuckin’ Connery to practice your fuckin’ swing.” Begbie’s foot connected with Danny’s side, causing him to curl into a ball for a moment. Still, he kept running his mouth. “Oh yesh, thatsh quite the shpot, ish it no? Give me yer cock, Mr. Begbie! Shtuff it richt up mah arshe, oh yesh! Yesh!” he cackled at his own poor attempt at Connery’s Scottish brogue. Begbie reached down and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him up and slamming him against the far wall.

“Why‘re ye fucking daein this?” Begbie asked, and for the first time, Danny could see a flicker of actual unease on the other man’s face. “Wh-‘re ye no fightin back?” Danny ignored his questions entirely.

“I bet old Sean really fuckin’ begs for it, doesn’t he, Franco? Bet the old man really fuckin’ takes it deep.” Begbie fisted his free hand around Danny’s jacket lapel and suddenly his lips were on his and he was kissing him with a ferocity that Danny had never known. Danny’s entire world swam around him, but through the haze of drink and shock, he could feel the other man’s lips on his. A sharp wave of heat shot through his cock at the feeling of kissing the other man. He reached up and pulled Begbie’s hand from his throat so he could breathe more easily. After a few seconds, Begbie shoved himself away, looking utterly disgusted.

“Don’t you fuckin’ look at me like that! You fuckin’ kissed me, so don’t you fuckin’ think I’ll stand here and take that fuckin’ look from you!” Before he could take a full breath, Begbie grabbed his coat lapels and slammed him hard into the wall, his fist pounding into his collarbone. Danny winced, feeling like he had just narrowly avoided a dislocated shoulder.

“Dinnae fucking…. I daedna fucking kiss….. Ya eedjit fucking, tattie-stuffin cunt! I daedna fucking kiss ye….. you….. you…..” This time when Begbie’s mouth slammed against his, Danny was more prepared. He moved his lips against the other man’s and opened just enough to pull Begbie’s lower lip between his teeth and bite down hard. Begbie grunted, shaking Danny against the wall again and pulling his lip back to takeover dominance of the kiss, or whatever this was. It was feral and vaguely terrifying, but fuck if he wasn’t hard just from the sheer intensity of it. He wasn’t even fucking gay! Maybe he had had more to drink than he had thought. Was he even going to fucking remember this man existed in the morning?

“Not a fuckin’ cocksucker, my arse,” Danny sneered against Begbie’s mouth. He found himself once more flying across the floor as Begbie threw him aside.

“Stap fucking talkin, ya wee doss cunt,” Begbie snarled, standing over him and looking down with an expression of pure hatred.

“You fuckin’ stop fuckin’ talking, you fuckin’ sheep fucker.“ Danny braced himself on his knees and climbed to his feet. “What’s the problem, you fuckin’ poof, embarrassed by yer wee fuckin’ tadger?” he mocked in another poor imitation of a Scots accent. Danny watched with delighted interest as Begbie advanced on him slowly. The other man had his hands on his belt and was undoing it and the trouser fly beneath. Danny didn’t really think about it as he started to pull off his own suit jacket and unbutton his shirt cuffs. He had never considered himself to be gay. He had never really been interested in any particular homosexual interactions. But he was an open-minded, flexible sort of guy. The mustachioed man known as Frank Begbie had managed so far to have him hard just by kissing him. He seemed like a willing volunteer, if a little unwilling to admit it to himself. Nothing wrong with expanding your fucking horizons, Danny reasoned. He undid his own belt just as Begbie reached him. He grabbed Danny by the collar of his open shirt and dragged him towards the large office desk. Danny had just barely managed to undo his own trousers and push them down his hips before Begbie was pushing him against the desk and bending him forward over it.

“Ah’m no a fucking bufty,” Begbie was growling, over and over again. “Ah’m no a fucking poof.” Danny felt his pants slide to the ground around his ankles and the cool plastic of the desk against his straining cock. He groaned.

“Of course you fuckin’ are, you fuckin’ loser. Big fuckin’ pooftah, with a tiny fuckin’– _FUCK_!” Danny’s head slammed forward onto the surface of his desk as Begbie’s cock was shoved between his legs. He shuddered from head to toe and his head spun, making him feel nauseous for a moment. “Fuckin’ warn a bloke next time, fuck.” He hadn’t been penetrated yet, but Danny felt his first real stab of fear at the feel of Begbie’s cock pressed between his thighs. “You might fuckin’ be an old fuckin’ hat at this, but this is my first fuckin’ time bein’ fucked by a homo-fuckin’-sexual, alright?” Danny’s head snapped back as Begbie reached forward and grabbed the back of his neck.

“Shut yer fucking mooth,” Begbie snarled in his ear. He pulled back, away from Danny, but kept his hand on the back of Danny’s neck. “Hiv ye goat aught tae use… fer… lubrication, likesay?” It was the first time the other man had acknowledged in the slightest what they were doing and to Danny’s unease, that made it all seem far more fucking real. He was far too fucking drunk to be making these sort of judgements, but he was also far too fucking drunk to care.

“Not fuckin’ here, I fuckin’ don’t. What sort of fuckin’ example would I be setting if I fuckin’ made it a fuckin’ habit of shaggin’ in my own fuckin’ office. What sort of fuckin’ business would I be fuckin’ running?” To Danny’s surprise, Begbie snorted in hesitant laughter. He released Danny and backed off, reaching down to pull his trousers up and buckle his belt. Danny straighten up and turned to watch him.

“That fuckin’ it, then? You fuckin’ givin’ u– uh!” Begbie had dropped to his knees in front of him quite suddenly and taken Danny’s cock into his mouth. All of the blood rushed out of Danny’s head and he felt his knees tremble. He reached back and gripped the table with one hand to steady himself. Fuck! He was seeing fucking stars, what the fuck was wrong with him? It wasn’t his first fucking blow job, and yet he still felt like a randy teenager ready to fucking blow his load after seconds of being inside Begbie’s warm, wet mouth.

He groaned and let his head fall forward to watch Begbie work. It was a bizarre feeling to look down and see the other man with his cock in his mouth. The well-kept mustache looked disheveled now, and Danny could remember just how it had felt against his upper lip as he had kissed Begbie. He was struck by the intense desire to do so again, but he was incredibly unwilling to pull himself from Begbie’s mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, as Begbie’s tongue laved the head of his cock. The word ‘cocksucker’ echoed in Danny’s mind again and again, and he desperately wanted to say it aloud. With his most prized body part in Begbie’s mouth, however, he refrained. The last thing he wanted was this fucking psychopath to bite his fucking prick clean off. The thought sent an absurd shiver through him and Danny found himself having to bite his own tongue to keep himself quiet.

When Begbie ran his teeth along the length of Danny’s cock, he could no longer keep his mouth shut. “Cocksucker!” he said in a breathy gasp. The hand that wasn’t currently holding him upright against the desk shot into Begbie’s heavily gelled hair and pulled. The other man looked up at him and their eyes made contact for the very first time that night. The look in Franco Begbie’s eyes was far too complicated to read. He looked terrified, and confused, and very aroused. Danny’s mouth fell open and he struggled to catch his breath. He could feel himself nearing his climax and he gazed down at Begbie with his mouth around his cock, entirely transfixed. He was so fucking close it hurt and finally, with one last flick of Begbie’s tongue over the head of his cock, Danny came. He came so hard he thought that for a moment, he’d gone blind. He grunted and thrust his hips into Begbie’s face.

When he was back in his own mind, Danny became aware that Begbie was spitting into the rubbish bin under Danny’s desk. The thought of the man with a mouthful of Danny’s own cum sent another stab of desire to his cock. Fuck, what was wrong with him? He had just fucking come harder than he could remember coming before, and he still fucking had enough left to be half-hard again already. He supposed he should be fucking proud.

“What, can’t fuckin’ swallow, then? Experienced fuckin’ cocksucker like you can’t even fuckin’ swallow?”  Begbie glared at him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stumbled back towards Danny.

“Pull yer fucking keks o’er yer airse, will ya? And where’s yer cunting flat? Ah’ve bollocks the size ay fucking watermelons, but ah’m no sae pissed tha fuckin’ ye dry soonds fucking pleasant.” There was a pause in which they both stared at each other and then for good measure, Begbie added, “Ya doss cunt.”

Somehow they managed to make it out of the club and upstairs to Danny’s flat. Between the two of them, walking in any particularly straight line was asking for far too much. They were both unwilling to lean on each other for support, as neither one really wanted to touch the other at all. They made quite the spectacle, Danny was sure, if anyone were about to watch. Both men were stumbling and tripping over their own feet, but every time either got too close to the other for comfort, the other man shot backwards and raised his hands defensively, as if he were fighting off an attacker. Danny felt like he was viewing the world through a hazy tunnel, only really able to focus on what was directly in front of him when he squinted hard.

Everything seemed to be happening in a blur. He felt almost as if he were not at all in control of his own body, as if he were making decisions without actually making them. At the moment, inviting this violent sociopath into his flat seemed like the best idea he’d ever had, and so he unlocked the door to his flat and pushed the door open. He was gesturing for Begbie to lead the way when he, once again, felt himself being pulled by the lapels of his rumpled suit coat. Begbie hoisted him through the door and slammed him back against it as it closed. Danny felt the handle dig painfully into the small of his back, but he was far too distracted by Begbie’s mouth on his neck to give a fuck. His own paranoia gave him enough presence of mind to reach behind him and turn the lock before his hands fisted in Begbie’s jumper. He felt like he was holding on to a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from blacking out in his drunken haze was his grip on the other man’s woolly argyle and the mouth biting and sucking at his collar. He groaned, the fingers of one hand running down Begbie’s jumper to the hem. The wool made his hands itch, and drew his attention away from the more pleasant feelings he was experiencing. He wanted it gone.

Begbie stiffened as Danny tugged the hem of the jumper up and slid it over his head. Danny had a single moment to worry that Begbie wouldn’t let go of his neck and suit long enough let the jumper come off, before the fabric pooled in his hands. He tossed the disgustingly cheap wool aside, not caring where it may land. His hands fisted in Begbie’s vest as Begbie’s teeth dug into Danny’s collarbone. Danny grunted in pain and shoved the man away from him. Panting, he tried to size Begbie up, his eyes taking in the wiry musculature of his bare arms and the corded tendons of his stiff neck. The man would give himself a fucking aneurysm if he didn’t fucking lighten up.

“You’re quite the fuckin’ tight-arse, aren’t you, then? Fuckin’ lighten up, you fuckin’ pansy.” For a moment, Danny amused himself with the irony of him telling someone else to loosen up, then Begbie’s fist collided with his nose. Dazed, Danny reached up to check for a break. No blood, no real damage done. “Fuckin’ violent. Can’t you fuckin’ settle your issues like a proper fuckin’ civilized human fuckin’ being? Huh? Throwin’ fuckin’ punches every which way like a fuckin’ gorilla. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, man.” He stepped toward Begbie, but the other man backed away hastily, so Danny paused. The man clearly had no problem standing up to him, but when it came to more personal advances, it seemed Frank Begbie had more insecurities then he had let on.

“Fuck…. Alright….. Al-fuckin’-right….” Danny raised his hands out in front of him in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “We do this your way, then.” He gestured toward the bedroom with one hand, the other still braced before him like he was ready to fend off another attack. Begbie was breathing heavily, looking like a rabbit that was ready to bolt at any second. Danny’s eyes flickered down to the man’s trousers and his arousal was plain to see. Reaching down, he adjusted his own crotch, his trousers feeling quite tight. When Begbie did not immediately move for the bedroom, Danny gestured again and added, “After you?”

When Begbie still stayed frozen on the spot, Danny rolled his eyes and brushed past him into the bedroom. Really, this couldn’t be the man’s first… experience, could it? Not considering how fucking good his mouth had been around Danny’s cock. He shuddered to remember it, his cock twitching in his trousers. He reached down and unbuckled his belt and fly once more, relieving some of the pressure. He groaned as he reached into his pants and adjusted himself, before heading for the night stand and opening the drawer. Behind him, he heard Begbie shuffle into the room and close the door tightly. Danny didn’t fail to notice when he threw the lock here too, before moving to the bedroom windows and pulling the curtains securely shut. What was he worried about? Being seen by someone who might recognize him? Danny snorted. As if anyone could see into his flat from outside. Danny had made damn sure of that when the place had been remodeled.

Rifling through the drawer with one hand and holding himself upright with the other propped on the wall, Danny at last found what he was looking for. He pulled out the small opaque bottle with an orange lid and tossed it, along with a small foil packet, to Begbie, who caught them both easily.

“Right,” Danny said, looking at Begbie from across the bed. After everything they had decided on, or failed to decide on but seemed to happen anyways, now they seemed at an impasse, neither one sure of where it would go next, and neither willing to take it there.

“Right,” Begbie echoed, looking down at the bottle in his hand. Danny lifted one leg and placed his knee on the bed, thinking to crawl onto it and get this fucking thing started already, but Begbie blanched and shook his head.

“Don't!” Danny froze, frowning at the man’s outburst. “Just… daena dae that….” Where earlier his face and neck had been colored red with rage, now Begbie seemed sickly white. Danny watched him for a moment, before being struck by an idea.

“Well, are you gonna fuckin’ do it, or not? Not fuckin’ backin’ out?” He removed his coat and shirt once again, turning away from the bed to fold the clothes sloppily upon the nearby arm chair. “Not fuckin’ scratchin’ your fuckin’ stallion from the fuckin’ race, are you? You useless fuckin’ cocksuckin’ loser.” Begbie’s face twitched grotesquely, but Danny kept at it. “You haggis-stuffed, fuckin’ Weegie cunt. Can’t fuckin’ get your own fuckin’ prick up, can you?” Begbie took a step towards him, then another. The color in his face was rising again. He was back in his element. “Can’t fuckin’ stand to fuckin’ attention ‘cause you’ve got too much fuckin’ liquor in your system?” Danny just had time for one more jab before he found his face pressed hard into the duvet as Begbie grabbed the back of his head and bent him over the bed. “Fuckin’ useless fuckin’ arse bandit.”

“Ah’ll fucking dae ye in fer talkin tae us like tha,” Begbie growled in his ear as he leaned over him. Danny could feel the hardness of Begbie’s cock pressed against his arse through several layers of clothing.

“Fuckin’ do it then, why don’t you?” Danny challenged, wondering if both of them would actually make it. “Or maybe I ought to just fuckin’ bend you over my-fuckin’-self and fuck you right now.” His vision swam dangerously and he turned his face into the bed to keep from being ill. Behind him, he could feel Begbie undoing his fly and pushing his own trousers down to his ankles. He groaned, feeling weary. For his part, he wanted to just get it over and done with so that he could lie down properly and pass out. His mind wandered for a moment until he felt Begbie pushing his trousers down off his hips again and they slid to the floor. Danny’s head shot up and he turned his head to try and see Begbie over his shoulder. He only found Begbie’s hand pressed to his cheek, turning his head back into the duvet.

“Dinnae… fucking look aboot, ya cunt. Dinnae fucking look at us…,” Begbie murmured. Danny heard the ripping of the foil condom wrapper and the click of the lid on the bottle of lubricant and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that the roiling in his stomach was only from the alcohol and lack of food, and not from fear or nerves. He was struck by the bizarre desire to talk, as he often did to cover up his anxiety. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, he felt Begbie’s wet fingers coating his arsehole with lube and for the first time in his entire life, Danny failed to find any words at all. For a moment, all he could feel was Begbie’s fingers stroking his arse before finally he felt one finger slide inside of him.

He tensed all over at the sensation, his body reacting instinctively to being invaded. His shoulders went tight, despite himself and his head fought against Begbie’s hand where he was still being held down on the bed. It was a few moments before Danny could force himself to relax. Neither of them said a word, or even moved. He wasn’t sure how he had expected this to feel. He was expecting some discomfort to be sure, but he couldn’t say he had actually expected it to feel good. This… didn’t feel fucking bad, to be entirely honest. It didn’t quite feel fucking good yet, either. After another moment, Begbie added a second finger alongside the first, and moments later, a third. Danny winced and fisted his hands in the bedclothes.

“Fuck,” he gasped, as Begbie started to move his fingers, slowly, but firmly. “Fuck!” he said again, louder this time. Above him, he felt Begbie’s hand leave his shoulder and heard the obscene squirting sound from the lubricant bottle. He barely had time to take a breath before Begbie’s fingers were pulled from him and Danny’s whole body relaxed for a moment before he felt Begbie’s cock push inside him.

“ _Fuck_!” Danny could not help but shout. His whole body was clenching and he gritted his teeth against the pain, determined to not show it on his face. His nails and fingers dug into hard fists around handfuls of the duvet and he pulled, trying to find purchase as the duvet just slipped towards him across the bed. Behind him, he could hear Begbie grunting as he struggled to breathe evenly. He stood so still, Danny almost wondered if that was it, if that was all there was to be expected from the terrifying sociopath with more fucking mental issues than a fucking war veteran. Then Begbie started to move.

Danny clawed at the bed until he ran out of bed clothes to grab onto and had every blanket and sheet piled under him, propping him up slightly. That seemed to work in his favour, as he was able to relax ever so slightly and ease the pain. As Begbie thrust into him from behind, Danny’s teeth dug into his bottom lip until he could no longer keep his mouth shut.

“Fuck… me…. I had no… fuckin’… idea…. Fuck!” He lifted his head to try and turn around and look at Begbie again, but once again found Begbie’s hand preventing him from doing so.

“Stap. Fucking. Lookin. ‘T’us.” He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust, his words barely comprehensible beyond the brogue and the animalistic grunts. Danny’s head swam and he forced his eyes shut, blocking out the spinning room around him. He grunted when Begbie’s jolting thrusts picked up pace and braced his knees against the bed to lean into the movements. Begbie’s hands gripped his shoulders hard, pulling him back into him in time with his thrusts.

Danny was feeling intensely dissociative, like he wasn’t in his own body, but watching himself be fucked in a position he had so often been on the giving end of, but never the receiving end. He felt Begbie’s cock sliding inside of him and had the bizarre realization that he could now relate to so many women he had fucked on this very bed. It was strangely erotic to think about and he opened his mouth and let out an embarrassingly fucking loud moan.

“Oh yes! Fuck…. Bloody f-fuckin’ hell!” he gasped, rolling his head to the side. Without Begbie’s hand to keep his head down, Danny could better arch his back, pushing back further to meet his thrusts. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny watched Begbie as closely as he could. The strain on his eyes made his head hurt, but he was entirely transfixed by the way Begbie’s slicked back hair broke apart and hung in his eyes as he fucked him, by the look of concentration on his face.

“Fuck… fuck me, ya fuckin’ cocksucker…. fuckin’ harder!” Begbie growled into his ear, something about ‘shuttin ‘is fucking mooth,’ but Danny was past being able to control himself. He pounded his fists into the bed as obscenities spilled from his mouth in a constant stream. He felt Begbie tense, felt him dig his nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back. He grimaced at the sharpness of the pain it caused, but as he drew his next breath, he heard Begbie grunt loudly and go completely still for a moment before he collapsed.

“Get the fuck off, you fuckin’ brute,” Danny shouldered the other man off and pulled himself onto the bed, his eyelids heavy. He just managed to kick his shoes off and let his pants fall to the floor before he collapsed in a puddle of limbs on the bed and passed out.


End file.
